


Accidents of Natural History

by ignipes



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-20
Updated: 2005-08-20
Packaged: 2017-10-02 22:06:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignipes/pseuds/ignipes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two boys, a boat, a cave, one very bad day and twenty-three creepy voyeurs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Accidents of Natural History

He doesn't move when the dormitory door opens and closes. He doesn't move when footsteps cross the room, passing by his bed. A book-bag drops, papers shuffle, a window opens, the evening flows in. The crimson curtains shift gently, the first movement he's seen in -- hours, probably -- longer than he cares to notice.

Footsteps again. He closes his eyes.

He doesn't move when the footsteps pause beside the bed, when a hand pushes one red curtain aside with a warning whisper of fabric, when the mattress sinks and fingers prod his shoulder none-too-gently.

"I have been ordered," Remus begins. Sirius opens his eyes to see that mild, inescapable gaze. "Upon pain of death." He pokes Sirius' shoulder again, like he's worrying a wound. "To do whatever it takes." A pause, and the poke melts into warm, strong fingers on his upper arm. "To make you stop sulking and shouting and hexing everyone in sight."

"Fuck off." Sirius turns his head away.

"No. Come on."

There is a tug on his tie, gentle at first, then strong enough that Sirius has to sit up or risk being strangled. He glares at Remus balefully, accomplishes nothing. Tries to push the hand away, accomplishes nothing.

Remus merely raises a single eyebrow, holding the tie like a lead, and says, "Shall I drag you, or will you come willingly?"

Sirius knows better than to answer that question. He stands up and does not allow himself to sigh.

-

Remus neglects to mention the need for shoes.

Sirius winces with every step. The stone path is smooth, but so are his feet. The assembly of an extensive mental list of Ways In Which Remus John Lupin Will Pay For This Fucking Nonsense does not distract him from the discomfort.

"You're a bloody ponce," Remus says. "Like you've never been without shoes before."

He's too far ahead, standing at the top of the stairs that lead down to the harbour, looking back at Sirius and smiling. The sun is low and everyone else is having supper and there is no wind across the lake. Remus is spindly and golden in the evening sun, his shadow long and crooked on the grass.

"I hate you." Sirius tosses the words down the hillside, imagining for a moment that he can see them skating through the sunlight.

"I can carry you, if you like."

"I'm going to kill you."

"It gets a bit rough here, you know. I don't want you to hurt yourself."

"Painfully. Slowly. Agonisingly."

"Now, now. We're almost there."

Sirius is standing beside Remus, and Remus is still grinning.

The path collapses into the ground, a sharp turn and a steep drop into a smooth, cool, damp tunnel. The steps are narrow, twisting, slick. Remus doesn't bother to light the way, there's no place to go but down, and too soon the sunlight is gone and Remus is only a pale shadow before him. Trousers, bare feet, button-down rolled up to the elbows. Sirius feels the cold on his feet, the drag of his robes on the steps behind him, the steady rise of air from the caves below.

When they reach the harbour, at the bottom of the steps, the torches flame up and fill the cave with shifting yellow and orange light. The boats bob innocently at the docks; the hushed _lap, lap_ of water echoes from the stone walls.

And Remus, bloody drag-him-out-of-bed-by-his-tie-and-force-him-down-to-the-caves-barefoot-while-grinning-like-a-fiend Remus, is crunching across the gravel, not even flinching, and untying one of the boats from its neighbours.

Remus shoves the rowboat away from the shore and splashes out to hop right in, smooth and quick like he's been a sodding sailor his entire life.

The boat rocks dangerously, and Remus looks back, still grinning. In the dancing, flickering torchlight, dwarfed by the massive cavern, Remus' grin looks just a bit diabolical.

Sirius sighs, to no avail, and wonders if his left foot is bleeding.

But he follows. He splashes through the water like Remus did, yelping unmanfully at the sudden shock of cold, and executes an utterly graceless entrance into the rowboat. It's not so much a jaunty hop as a flop, and the boat nearly capsizes. Remus laughs and leans the other way while Sirius sorts out his arms and legs and finds a position that doesn't involve sprawling over the side with his arse in the air.

"I hate you," he says. His voice bounces through the underground harbour, racing along the curved walls and vanishing into the darkness. He looks around a bit nervously, half-expecting the echo to burst from the darkness again. "I hate you and I'm not rowing this fucking thing anywhere."

"It's magic, you idiot." Remus touches his wand to the side of the boat, and it begins to move.

"I know that." It's a stupid thing to say, because Remus knows that he knows that. They've been down here before, borrowing boats in the dead of night and exploring the labyrinth of tunnels and caves carved into the rock beneath Hogwarts. They've been down here with friends and girls and laughter and Firewhiskey, water fights and high-speed chases. They've been down here for the best bloody championship game of hide-and-seek anybody ever played, which resulted in two cracked ribs, one near-drowning, three cases of almost-hypothermia, and a Gryffindor victory for the ages.

They've never been down here alone.

-

Sirius hates going backwards.

Remus is relaxed, leaning comfortably in his end of the boat, long legs stretched before him and tangled awkwardly with Sirius' own, the pale blue light from his wand barely strong enough to illuminate his face, much less the narrow tunnel around them. There isn't anything to see outside the boat; that's always been part of the thrill. It doesn't matter, though. Sirius hates going backwards, but to have Remus and the light at his back and the yawning darkness before him -- he can't turn around, because that would be even worse.

Sirius knows that trying to force Remus to change his mind about anything by whining is a lost cause. He knows, in a small corner of his mind, that it's weird and perverse and utterly childish to complain when it won't accomplish anything.

It's a very small part of a very annoyed mind.

"This is bloody stupid," he says. Ten. He's counting. Usually, it takes about fifteen 'bloody stupids' before Remus snaps and tells him to stuff it. "What the hell are we doing down here? I hate going backwards."

"James told me about what your brother said to you."

Their voices don't echo anymore, nor does the cold slice of the boat through the water. The tunnel is too small, the stone curves too close over their heads. He thinks about Remus' voice, how it sounds wrong, muffled, heavy, and then he thinks about the words. It takes him about half a minute to decide not to respond.

"Not that he had to," Remus continues conversationally, as if he's discussing what's for supper or the Charms homework or what to buy at Honeydukes next weekend. "I was the only person in the castle who didn't hear the shouting."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Sirius glances at Remus. It's cold in the tunnel, even in his school robes, and Remus, no longer smiling, looks like a ghost in the pale blue light. Sirius turns his head sharply, shivering. There's nothing to see but the featureless stone wall.

The tunnel branches twice, and he has no idea where they are -- they never managed to map the caves properly -- and he tries to tell himself that's the reason for the tightness in his chest.

"You know he only says those things to make you angry," Remus is saying. "He always says the same thing, you always react the same way, the same innocent bystanders always end up hexed."

Sirius hugs his arms tighter around his chest and does not turn, even though his neck is starting to ache. Remus is wrong. He's right, but he's also wrong, and Sirius stares at the wall of the tunnel, thinking about the wrong. Regulus doesn't always say the same thing. Regulus doesn't have a mind like that. No matter what Sirius says to mock him, Regulus has never been a parrot who simply repeats what he's told. He has a mind like a trap, like a cage, a mind that catches every word, every snippet of conversation, every shouted argument, and hordes it away like a goblin with a pile of gold. Hordes and sorts, shifts and counts, he brings out each shiny coin of memory when it will buy the most favour or do the most damage.

The heaviest coins -- _isn't that what you told me, Sirius? __A__m I not remembering correctly?_ \-- paid out with wide, dark eyes and an innocent smile -- _'disgusting mudbloods, nature's ugliest accidents, not worth the clothes they're wearing', I believe that's what you said_ \-- Sirius can feel the relentless _clink, clink_ jarring his bones, rattling his teeth, thudding like footsteps in his guts -- _oh, dear, I must have heard you incorrectly, I do apologise_ \-- the briefest narrowing of the eyes, a flicker of challenge -- _because Merlin knows that daring rebel Sirius Black would never had said such a horrible thing, would he?_

Remus is wrong, because Regulus doesn't always say the same thing. He doesn't need to. He has a collection, the envy of any connoisseur: words from their mother, who Sirius hasn't seen in over a year; words from their father, who Sirius saw, briefly, but did not speak to in Diagon Alley last August.

And words from Sirius himself, because he's never been able to keep his fucking mouth shut.

His neck hurts and he's bloody cold and somewhere over their heads the sun has set. Remus is still saying something, his calm, reasonable, inescapable voice going on and on about something that Sirius doesn't want to hear, so Sirius growls and whips his head around to glare into the cold, weak, blue wandlight, and he says, "Just shut the hell up, okay? You don't know what the fuck you're talking about. It's none of your fucking business and you never know what the fuck you're talking--"

"_Nox_."

Whisper, breath, gasp, darkness.

-

"Remus--"

The darkness is absolute.

They've done this before, the darkness. A dare, a dozen dares, a chase through the tunnels, a clumsy breaststroke. A prize, complete with ribbon, that was only funny later: World's Stupidest Way To Get A Concussion.

The darkness is absolute. The silence isn't. Sirius can hear the boat moving through the water, can hear Remus breathing at the other end. He can hear his own breaths and the blood in his ears; he can feel Remus' legs still tangled uncomfortably with his own.

"Remus, what are you--"

"Shhh. We're almost there."

"Almost where?"

"You'll see. Just relax."

Sirius obeys until his mind scolds him and demands to know _why_ he needs to relax. He's not scared. He's done this dozens of times before, not like some trembling first year about to wet himself just because the lights went out.

The light changes, so subtly it seems like a grey mist gathering at the edges of his vision. Sirius blinks several times, his eyes hungry for more.

Remus pokes him gently with his foot. "Turn around. Look."

Cautiously, Sirius turns.

First grey surrenders to blue, then blue melts into violet and green. The tunnel bends and opens; the boat passes through what might be an archway or merely a symmetrical accident of geology. The colours shimmer and shift, and, anxiously, Sirius tries to follow them, afraid they'll vanish into the darkness.

Then, all at once, light and colour are everywhere.

He sees the light before he sees the cavern, and is temporarily blinded by the brilliance. Once his eyes adjust, Sirius stares open-mouthed at the tiny, sparkling, innumerable crystals embedded into the dark stone, each one quivering with a faint glow. The stone itself seems to be alive, the colours leaping like wraiths and whipping through the air, vanishing in puffs of light. The water sparkles and shines.

He stares for so long, entranced and unblinking, that it's some time before he looks down and sees Remus smiling, that same familiar smile that manages to be both sly and sheepish, a smile that doesn't look at all out of place in this glorious explosion of colour.

"Pretty neat, eh?" There is laughter and wonder in Remus' voice.

"How did you find this?"

"Just exploring."

"Exploring? When? I've never been here before."

"Last spring. One night when I couldn't sleep."

Sirius shuts his mouth. The lights make the cave no warmer, and he slumps down in the bow of the boat again, deliberately staring upward rather than meeting Remus' eyes. Last spring, when he couldn't sleep. Last spring, when nobody could sleep, when Sirius was awake listening to Remus be awake and believing that he would never sleep again.

Remus' foot presses against his thigh. Sirius exhales the breath he didn't know he was holding. Very expressive toes, Remus has, toes that can say _hey, it's fine, we're past that now_ with no more than a nudge. Sirius reaches down, almost without thinking, and rests his hand on Remus' ankle.

"There's another chamber," Remus says. The light dances in his eyes, and his smile is definitely more sly than sheepish now. "It gets weirder."

The glowing cave seems too vast to be natural, too irregular to be man-made, but Sirius doesn't think about it long before the boat is passing into another cavern. This one is lit, as well, though the light seems more orange and red, warmer and softer and slower, and along the side of the cavern there is a high, smooth shelf of stone.

On the shelf, there are skeletons. Human skeletons.

Sirius blinks several times. "That's -- they're -- that's--"

"Isn't it, though? Twenty-three of them. I counted."

The skeletons are seated with their backs against the cavern wall as if they had just settled down for a kip. In the gentle glow, the bones appear golden rather than white, but every skull grins, smooth and hollow-eyed. They have nothing with them, no scraps of clothing, no pieces of jewellery, nothing.

"You win," Sirius states, nodding emphatically. "It's taken seven years of searching, but you have without a doubt found the strangest place in all of Hogwarts."

Remus laughs. "I wonder how they got here."

"Maybe they're students who got lost exploring the caves--"

The boat rocks suddenly, and Sirius glances away from the skeletons.

"And the water started to rise--"

"A natural disaster, certainly--"

Remus is shifting, turning, moving closer to Sirius.

"And they couldn't find a way out--"

He straddles Sirius legs. The weight isn't comfortable; Sirius feels the ribs of the boat digging into his back.

"So they turned on each other--"

Remus puts his hands on the side of the boat, on either side of Sirius' head, and leans in. The boat rocks dangerously, but Remus doesn't stop. He kisses Sirius slowly, almost hesitantly, like he did months ago when they were both new at this and utterly stupid. Then he pushes away slightly and opens his eyes.

"That," Remus says, his mouth so close Sirius can feel the words on his lips, "would be a terrible way to go."

Sirius pulls him close, swiftly and not gently, rushing through several months of practice, his mouth on Remus', tongue, lips, not enough breath. He finds the edge of Remus shirt and slips one hand along the skin of Remus' waist and back, twines the other through his hair, ignoring the pain of the board digging into his shoulder, ignoring the precarious motion of the boat, ignoring--

Sirius struggles away suddenly. "Remus--"

"Wha--ouch!" Remus pulls back, and Sirius quickly releases his grip on Remus' hair. "What?"

Remus glares down at him, panting and flushed and mussed and thoroughly annoyed.

Sirius holds his breath for a second, focuses on Remus, licks his lips.

It does no good.

"Remus -- they're watching us."

"Who -- what?"

"They're watching us."

Remus stares at him for a long time, his breath returning to normal, his expression completely unreadable.

Slowly, he turns and looks over his shoulder at the line of skeletons on the ledge.

"They--"

"Yeah." Sirius is whispering now, but his voice still too loud. "They are."

"Sirius." Remus is whispering, too, and he looks down at Sirius again. Then he starts to laugh, quietly at first, but the laughter grows and echoes through the cavern, until he's shaking with it, collapsing on top of Sirius and burying his face in his neck.

Gasping for breath, Remus pushes himself up on his elbows and shakes his head, grinning like a fool.

"It's not funny," Sirius protests.

"It's bloody hilarious, you fool. They haven't any eyes."

"But it's -- the holes -- the _sockets_\--"

"You bloody hilarious bastard."

Remus shifts again, and there's a confusion of limbs as he settles down beside Sirius, with too many knees and too-big feet -- Sirius wonders if they'll ever figure this out, the arrangement of small spaces, twice as many arms and legs, elbows in kidneys and ribs everywhere -- but then Remus' arm is somehow around Sirius, and Sirius' head is somehow resting on Remus shoulder, and there's a whisper of a kiss on Sirius' temple.

And the skeletons are still watching them.

"Let's go back into the other chamber," Remus suggests.

Sirius nods. "Good idea."

He whispers an apology to the skeletons as they float away.

-

Sirius closes his eyes because he knows the light and colour are still there. The cave is cold, but Remus is warm, the rise and fall of his chest steady, the beat of his heart reassuring.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He can feel Remus' question as much as hear it, a gentle rumble below his cheek.

Sirius snorts in reply. "You kidnap me from the dorm--"

"Hardly kidnapping--"

"March me into the caves _barefoot_\--"

"Oh, quit your whining, you little girl."

"Toss me into a boat--"

"Should've tossed you into the water."

"Float me off to some chamber of death deep beneath the castle--"

"It's bloody brilliant and you know it."

"And _now_ you ask if I want to talk about it?"

Sirius shifts awkwardly, twisting his neck in a way it's not designed to be twisted, and glares at Remus through narrowed eyes. Remus meets his gaze steadily, then kisses him. "Well, do you?"

"No," Sirius says. He rests his head on Remus' shoulder again, wraps his arm around Remus waist. "Not yet. Not now. Later, maybe."

"Okay." Again, the gentle rumble, warm and steady and strong. "I'm not going anywhere."


End file.
